


The Curse of the Ugly Sweater

by canadduh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cuddling, Drunk Castiel, Drunk Dean, Drunk confessions, Fake Dating, Friends to Lovers, Holiday Sweaters, M/M, PBExchangeWinter, Sharing Body Heat, Ugly Holiday Sweaters, Winter Wonderland Gift Fic, Witches, body switching, canon-verse, fridge sharing, hangovers, ish, magical roofies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-26 07:07:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17137271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadduh/pseuds/canadduh
Summary: If Dean knows anything in life it’s that ugly Christmas sweaters, basements, and witches do not mix.





	The Curse of the Ugly Sweater

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Shaes_bae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaes_bae/gifts).



> For [Shaes_bae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaes_bae/pseuds/Shaes_bae) as part of the PB Exchange Winter Wonderland! (You can join us at [ProfoundBond Discord ](https://discord.gg/GGbw2NP))
> 
> Her prompts were: Friends to lovers; bed sharing; pining; unresolved sexual tension; physical contact (hand holding, cuddling, etc) “for warmth! Honestly, it’s only because it’s cold not that I want to be close to you”; drunken love confessions; fake dating.
> 
> A huge thank you to [nickelkeep](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nickelkeep) for beta-ing this fic! Any error you find belongs to me.

They’ve been in the bunker for days now; scouring through newspapers, news websites, news podfics, and whatever other methods of getting news there are for another case. So far the three of them have come up empty-handed and it was only in the last three hours that Cas had left on a food run.

At least, Dean assumes it was a food run. He’d looked up from his tablet at the sound of air filling the space next to him to find that Cas was gone.

“So get this,” Sam says, Dean mouthing the familiar words along with him as he looks over his brother's shoulder at the computer screen. The screen shows a particularly hideous, clearly, Christmas themed, sweater.

“What am I getting?” Dean asks, unable to figure out the particular meaning of the picture nor why Sam was showing it to him.

“Haunted Christmas sweaters.” Sam is grinning and Dean feels the sudden urge to punch him in the face.

“You can’t be serious,” Dean groans; Sam just continues to smile, “really?”

No one says anything for a moment.

“Tell me we’re not going?” Dean begs seconds from dropping to his knees to plead. There’s no way in hell he’s going to deal with a frickin' haunted sweater.

“We’re going.” Sam says, “and we’re bringing Cas with us.”

“What? Why?” Dean asks with a raised brow, completely ignoring, for now, the fact that they were taking the case with the friggin’ haunted Christmas sweaters.”He’s probably got some angel stuff going on anyways.”

“He sent me the case.”

“Sonuvabitch.”

 

The building is nondescript and if it weren’t for Google Maps pulled up on Sam’s phone they would have missed it entirely. The party they’re going to attend is in the basement and if that doesn’t set off Dean’s warning bells he doesn’t know what will.

“Why?” Dean questions, pulling the scratchy material away from his neck, “Why are we wearing these?”

The red of his sweater reminds Dean of a fire truck, it’s block patterned with Christmas trees, mistletoe, and that one red flower he only sees when it’s cold— poinsettias, that was it!

“To blend in,” Cas says, his voice an octave higher than it’s normal graveliness.

“Why are you talking like that?” Dean demands, stepping away from the angel, it sounds too much like Jimmy for him to be comfortable, even if Jimmy’s long gone.

“Like-” Cas coughs and his next words are said in his normally deep voice, “like what?”

Dean blinks at Cas who is squinting at him with that head tilt that Dean shouldn’t find adorable. but he does and he’s spent countless late nights processing that. His usual grumpy appearance is offset by the white sweater-vest with candy-cane stitching on the seams, a Christmas tree, Santa Claus and a puppy.

“Like this,” Dean says, imitating the octave change that Cas had done, “it’s weird.”

“You’re weird.”

Dean raises a brow and turns to Sam, hoping his brother will have answers because clearly, something is wrong with his– the– angel.

“Guys, what’s going on?” Dean demands, glaring between the two men.

“We appear to have switched bodies,” Sam says in a Cas-like cadence.

“And when did this happen?” Dean runs his hand down his face and turns away from them, trying to calm down. It wasn’t like his best friend and brother had switched bodies without telling him or anything.

“When we put the sweaters on,” Cas— Sam, whichever one of them is in Cas’ body explains.

“So your sweaters are cursed? I thought we were going to investigate cursed friggin sweaters,” Dean grunts, glaring at the two of them, “have you tried taking them off?”

“Of course not, why wouldn’t we have thought of that?” Sam— Cas says sarcastically, the low timbre of his brother’s voice disconcerting.

“Well, excuse me for making sure,” Dean grumbles, glaring at the angel in his brother’s body, “sorry for trying to help.”  
“Dean—” Cas starts, putting a hand on Dean’s shoulder and that’s as far as he gets.

There’s a rushing noise in Dean’s ears and color explodes behind his closed eyelids before settling into a faint glow. When he manages to open his eyes he finds his own face staring back at him. Or at least it should be his face, it doesn’t look like he thought it would.

“What the fuck,” Dean says and his voice sounds like Sammy’s and he can feel the hair on the back of his neck. Sam’s right knee is all kinds of fucked up and Dean is gonna have words with him about taking it easy when all this is over. Maybe he’ll get Cas to take a look at it.

“This is weird,” Cas remarks. Dean’s trying to figure out if the deep voice thing is just a part of Cas or if it’s a choice.

“No shit,” Dean snaps, “how the fuck do we get our bodies back?”

“Find the witch,” Cas shrugs, and it’s really weird to see his own body move when Dean’s not the one in control.

“And how do you propose we do that?” Dean snaps.

“They should be at the party,” Sam says. Hearing Jimmy’s voice after so many years is weird but that’s what Cas’ body sound like without Cas in it.

“This is fucking weird,” Dean grumbles and it’s Sam’s voice and Dean really needs a drink.

Dean feels someone bump into his back, hears the muttered apologies, and feels a grip on his arm to keep him steady. The rushing noise is back and when Dean blinks he’s looking at his body and his brother’s which can only mean he’s in Cas’ body now.

“Body contact seems to be doing the trick,” Cas says, reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s - Cas’- shoulder. Dean holds his breath but nothing happens.

“Maybe it’s a one-time thing,” Sam says and Dean turns to glare at the man, disturbed that he has to crane his neck just that little bit more.

“Well aren’t you fucking lucky,” Dean growls before storming around the corner and to the very clearly labeled Basement Christmas Celebration.

Cause that wasn’t sketchy at all.

The Basement is brighter than Dean thought it would be. It’s still creepy but there are Christmas lights strewn about, mistletoe boughs with a little light on the end, and a surprisingly large Christmas tree off in the corner with presents wrapped under it. The room is crowded with an eclectic mix of people, all wearing holiday sweaters.

“How the hell are we gonna find her?” Dean hisses in Cas’ ear, or his own ear.

His life is a shitty Freaky Friday remake.

“Oh, hello dearies,” an older woman in a hideously red sweater approaches them. She has Christmas tree earrings, an angel necklace, and friggin antlers. “Welcome to The Basement! We’ve got a cover charge of twenty but couples get in for thirty! Are any of you?”

“We are,” Cas says, grabbing Dean’s hand and smiling at him, clearly ignoring Dean’s glare.

What the fuck?

“Oh, how cute!” The woman gushes. Dean really wishes he could punch Cas right now but he’s done that before and it hurts.

Dean continues to glare at Cas so the angel steps in again, “he’s a little shy about it though.”

“Aw, that’s alright,” the lady assures, looking like she’s seconds away from pinching Dean’s cheeks and he wants to be anywhere but here. "It’s fifty dollars for the three of you.”

Dean reaches for his wallet before remembering that he’s currently in the wrong freaking body, “My wallet, Cas?”

“Yes, of course,” Cas says, pulling the wallet out and handing it to Dean.

Dean forks over the fifty dollars with a grunt and then sulks into the party, ignoring Cas and Sam talking behind him.

He’s kinda over lying to himself; sure, he’ll lie to other people, but it’s a pain to push away his thoughts all the time. Dean has been attracted to Cas for years, hell he’s pretty sure he’s in love with the dude, so this fake-dating thing hits a little too close to home.

He’d much rather be real-dating the angel. But he sure as hell ain’t gonna tell him that.

There’s an open bar and thank Chuck for that; Dean’s itching for a drink and has been since Sam first brought up the case. He orders his usual whiskey and then leans against the bar to survey the crowd, sipping at the drink.

Sam and Cas are both engaged in a conversation with an older couple which gives Dean some time to himself. He watches them, trying not to be weirded out by the fact that it’s his body that Cas is in.

“He’s quite the looker,” a voice says from beside Dean, causing the hunter to startle and boy he’s going to beat himself up over that later. Dean relaxes a little when he sees that it’s only the woman from earlier.

“Uh,” Dean says because he’s not sure what else he can say. It feels oddly egotistical to agree with her because that’s his body. But she’s right, even in that hideous sweater Dean looks pretty damn good.

“Oh, sorry darlin’. My name’s Marjorie,” Marjorie introduces herself, “I’ve got a grandson that’s gay.”

“Oh, I’m not gay,” Dean quickly corrects, cause yeah, he may be in love with Cas but he still appreciates the female form.

“My goddaughter is bi,” Marjorie continues with a soft smile, “how did you two get together? I’m assuming he asked you out?”

“Uh, sure,” Dean says slowly, trying to figure out if he should be offended by that or not.

She looks at him expectantly and Dean realizes that she’d asked two questions.

“It just kinda happened,” Dean shrugs, downing the rest of his whiskey and signaling for a refill, “he’s been my best friend for years.”

“You two are so sweet,” Marjorie grins, “your boy’s coming over now, I’ll give you two some space.”

Marjorie winks before walking over the where Sam is and Dean finds Cas, still in Dean’s body, at his side in an instant.

“Your spider senses tingling?” Dean asks with a smirk. He’s got a slight buzz now which is weird because it was only two drinks. Which is way below Dean’s usual tolerance.

But then, the body he’s in is probably not used to drinking without an angel in it.

“Dean I already told you I— oh. No, I don’t know where the witch is.”

They watch the crowd silently after that, Dean orders a beer this time and finishes it in record time. Cas is right next to him, barely inches away and that does things to Dean. It should be weird that it’s Dean’s own body doing him in but it’s not. It’s Cas. He fell for the angel, Novak’s good looks were only a bonus.

“What’s up with this dating thing?” Dean snaps suddenly, it’s a lot harsher than he intends but he needs the question to be out in the open.

“I- uh- noticed that you and Sam are always looking for ways to save money,” Cas says haltingly and it’s both strange to hear his voice from outside his body and to listen to Cas sound so unsure of himself, “I thought it would help.”

Why did the angel have to be so damn thoughtful?

“Oh, well. Warn a guy next time, alright?” Dean says, clapping Cas on the shoulder and grabbing his third— fourth?— drink from the bartender before slipping away to do more investigation of the rest of The Basement.

He’s not sure where he is, honestly, but he knows that he’s drunk, its dark, and it’s cold. He’s pretty sure he was just in the kitchen but that could have been hours ago at this rate. Dean tries to stand but his body lists to the side, falling against something surprisingly warm.

“Hello?” He calls out, his voice slurred beyond recognition.

Oh, wait. It’s not his body.

Dean is very drunk.

“Dean, you’re awake.” And that’s his voice.

“Cas?” Dean asks. “Whaddaya doing here?”

The body against him shifts and Dean leans into it before he realizes what he’s doing. He moves away as quickly as he can without face planting and waits for his eyes to adjust to the dark. When they don’t and the cold gets worse Dean sluggishly moving back, not even realizing that Cas hasn’t said a word.

“For warmth!” Dean says loudly when he’s practically wrapped around Cas’—his— body. His words are slurred beyond his own comprehension but he’s sure Cas understands,“Honestly, it’s only because it’s cold not that I want to be close to you.”

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says indulgently.

Dean relaxes into Cas’s side for a moment before he remembers his unanswered questions from earlier.

“Where are we?” Dean asks, trying to look at Cas but it’s still too dark.

“We appear to be in a walk-in fridge,” Cas says, sounding amused.

“Why?”

Cas snorts and Dean’s alcohol addled brain squeals in delight because that was freaking adorable, “you drug me here.”

“What?”

“You said, and I quote ‘come meet my friends’ and then pulled me into the fridge and proceeded to lock us in,” Cas is shaking with his laughter now.

“When?”

“Around twenty minutes ago, you passed out as soon as you sat down.”

Dean’s still plastered and can see the humor in the situation so he starts laughing. He’s got tears streaming down his eyes but he doesn’t care. He has no memory of pulling Cas in but even in his drunken state, he sees a fault in Cas’ story.

“You’re an angel.” It sounds more like urine angle but again, Cas understands.

“Yes.”

“How did I lock us in?”

Cas settles a moment and Dean feels a sense of dread growing in him.

“You drew an angel trap.”

“How?”

Cas snorts again, “pudding.”

“Are you drunk?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Yes.” Dean grins because he’s pretty sure Cas is at the very least tipsy and right now that’s the best thing in the world. He’ll worry about the case in the morning. “You’re drunk too.”

“Marjorie supplied a lot of alcohol, Dean.”

Dean giggles at the flat tone Cas had affected and soon they’re both laughing again. There are words mixed into the glee but Dean can’t recall any of them. He really hopes he has at least some memory of this in the morning.

“Hey Cas,” Dean says when he gets a brilliant idea. He’s not sure how he never thought of this before. It’s the best idea he’s had in a while.

“Yes, Dean?”

“I think I love you.”

Yup, confessing while drunk was the best idea Dean’s ever had.

The first thing he notices is that his mouth is dry. There’s a steady pounding in his skull just behind his eyes. And every part of his body aches something fierce. Moving his head isn’t an option so Dean lays there, trying to figure out where he is and why his pillow is moving.

“Dean.”

“No.”

“Dean,” Cas tries again and oh, that’s not Dean’s voice anymore, that’s Cas’ deep voice. The voice that Dean dreams about more frequently than he’d like to admit.

“Still no.”

Cas sits up and Dean’s very rudely deposited onto a cold floor. He yelps, sitting up and instantly regretting it. His head is pounding and his stomach roils like he’s seconds from throwing up and the brief moment of light he got when his eyes flashed open was enough to make him regret every ounce of alcohol he’d ever had.

“Are we in a fridge?” Dean asks, recalling something from the night before.

“It appears so.”

Dean groans; he sits on his ass and leans back against the wall, “what the hell happened?”

“I believe I was drugged.”

“Fuck.” He pauses, replaying what Cas said, “wait, just you?”

Cas nods. His head tilts to the side as he scrutinizes Dean; “yes, you were just really drunk.”

“Where’s Sammy?” Dean asks, hoping the angel would know.

“Coming to help us, the lock is angel proofed,” Cas says, “I called him when I woke up.”

“Is the witch dead?”

Cas nods again and Dean sighs in relief. At least he doesn’t have to deal with that when he has a hangover from hell. Though he expects that he’ll have to deal with Sam’s nagging, and he honestly can’t decide if that’s better or worse.

Dean tries to recall what happened last night but can’t remember anything after walking away from Cas at the bar. He thinks he went to explore the back halls of the basement but he has no memory of it.

“How’d we get here?” Dean asks; he feels like he’s seconds from throwing up and then there are cool hands on his neck and the pain is gone.

It feels like a fog has been lifted from his mind as well and Dean groans at the memories as they come flooding back. Most of it is fine, he asked questions, flirted around, and drank. A lot. But then he remembers the pudding, pulling Cas into the fridge, and—

Fuck.

“Cas I—”

“I think I love you too,” Cas says, and he’s leaning forward with an amused glint in his eyes.

Dean leans forward too, more than ready for this to finally for this to finally be happening. He thinks he‘s waited years to kiss the angel and he’s only slightly pissed that he has a witch and cursed sweaters to thank for this moment.

Which is, of course, when Sam throws the door open. Dean swears he has never wanted to murder his own brother as much as he does right now.

“Dean you’re — Oh.”

Dean’s head falls forward and he squeezes his eyes shut and slowly pulls away from Cas. He glares at his brother but it falls into confusion when he sees that Sam is trying not to laugh at them.

“Sorry,” Sam apologizes, not sounding sorry at all, “but you’re both covered in pudding.”

Dean looks down his clothes and winces at the dried brown flakes. Cas’ clothes are in the same condition. Dean groans and looks to the ceiling as though it will grant him patience.

“Fucking witches.”


End file.
